


ignorance is bliss

by kill_me_softly (once_in_a)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, bokuto is sorry, futakuchi is exasperated, idk - Freeform, kitchen mishaps, oikawa is a sly little shit, waka is pissed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4408661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/once_in_a/pseuds/kill_me_softly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which oikawa and bokuto destroy the kitchen, futakuchi wishes he had just left when he had a chance, and waka is going to be pissed</p>
            </blockquote>





	ignorance is bliss

**Author's Note:**

> eh, probably ooc

Futakuchi Kenji is a relatively calm person. Yes, he gets on people’s nerves intentionally, but he never does enough to create a full on fight, merely a few headaches. He has never been involved in an actual fight and usually doesn’t yell. Captaining a team like Datekou taught him how to keep it in. But this, this was really testing his capabilities.

 

“What the fuck.” Futakuchi stares at the mess now called ‘kitchen’ and fights the urge to wince.

 

“It’s all Boku-chan’s fault!” Bokuto squawks in outrange and turns to face the pointing Oikawa.

 

“HAH?! You were the one who set the microwave on fire!” Bokuto yells.

 

“You were the one who somehow managed to burn something that said ‘non-flammable’!” Oikawa yells back. As they continue parroting back and forth, Futakuchi can feel his face getting redder and redder. Slowly, he breathes in and out as he steps forward. Catching sight of him, Oikawa begins to wave his hand in a ‘no, don’t!’ gesture while shaking his head wildly.

 

PLOP

Futakuchi can taste blood because of how hard he’s biting his lip as he reaches a hand up to pat his hair.

 

“Why,” he begins, voice quiet and dangerous, “is there spaghetti on the roof and in my hair. And why,” he states after taking in the appearances of the two should-be adults in front of him, “are you two covered in white foam. And what,” he turns to face the battle zone, voice steadily growing louder, “did you two numbskulls do?!”

 

“We’re sorry!” Bokuto cries, looking as if he’s about to drop down to his knees and pray. “Please don’t tell Waka-chan! He’ll kill me!”

 

“Not if I don’t kill you first.” Futakuchi mutters, taking in the full value of the mess. Bokuto squawks louder and even Oikawa has a slight grimace in his facial expression.

There’s spaghetti sauce on the ceiling, Futakuchi notes, peering up slightly, and in his hair. There’s what looks to be chocolate sprayed onto the walls and the fire alarm is broken and sitting on the kitchen island, next to a steaming towel. And that’s not even the worse part. The microwave looks as if someone had put a metal spoon in it and every surface in the kitchen seems to be covered in at least one coat of white foam. All in all, it’s a far cry from Ushijima’s usually immaculate kitchen.

 

“I thought Waka banned you two from the kitchen after the White Day incident.” They both wince, that day had been even worse than this.

 

“Well, yeah,” Oikawa begins, “but Boku-chan wanted to apologize so he suggested we make dinner and dessert and then this happened.”

 

“Why would you agree to something that _Bokuto_ wants to do?”

 

Oikawa shrugged, seeming to be perfectly comfortable despite the fact that he looked like a snowman. “I was bored.”

 

Futakuchi breathes in deeper. And louder. “Waka is going to _kill_ you.”

 

“Ah~ Don’t worry so much Kenji-kun. I’m sure that if we start now, we can get everything back to the way it was before Ushiwaka comes back.”

 

Futakuchi feels himself grow wary, not that he would ever admit it. “What do you want Oikawa. You never call me Kenji-kun unless you want something.”

 

Oikawa’s smile turns sly. “You see, the thing is, Kenji-kun, is that you’re going to get in trouble also for not telling Ushiwaka as soon as you came home.”

 

Futakuchi narrows him eyes and scowls darkly. Goddamn it. “Fine. However-” he turns to Bokuto who had been sitting in a corner for the last five minutes. “what I want to know, Bokuto,” he winces at Futakuchi’s tone, “is why you didn’t decide to just _buy_ Waka food.”

 

Bokuto whirls around, indignant, “ Because that wouldn’t have come from the heart!”

 

Futakuchi feels himself sweatdrop. “Yes, because destroying his kitchen is so much than getting him a store-bought present.”

 

Bokuto’s yells drown out Oikawa’s laughter and Futakuchi sighs before turning to the mess. He prays that it isn’t as bad as it looks.

 

He’s right.

 

It’s worse.

 

By the time Ushijima was back from training, three hours later, everything had been put back in its place and the three of them were in the living room, watching cartoons.

 

“Hey Waka,” Futakuchi said, not looking up from his laptop.

 

“Hello,” Ushijima greeted back before dropping his bag on the dining table with a heavy thud. “Everything seems to be-”

 

PLOP

 

Three pairs of eyes widen and whip around to stare at Ushijima at the familiar sound. Oh shit, Futakuchi thinks, they forgot about the spaghetti. Ushijima slowly reaches a hand up to pat his head and the air around him grows colder and colder. Futakuchi instinctively edges behind Bokuto who he had been sitting next to.

 

“ _What did you do._ ” Ushijima hisses, and this time, Bokuto isn’t the only one who wants to pray for his life.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> poor waka


End file.
